Written In Fire
by Shattersoul
Summary: One shots and set-dressing from the THBE universe. Contains a large amount of challenge prompts which tie into the main story. Expect to see stories prefixed by what year they take place in.
1. (Y -26) Echo

**Mocha Cookie Crumble Cake** : 1. Chocolate cake (Word: example) 2. Espresso pastry filling (Restriction: Can only include characters from before the Trio Era) 3. Espresso cookie buttercream (Genre: romance)

I don't even know if this fits the criteria.

I need to write it anyway.

Need to.

I have to.

* * *

They met like sparks to tinder, both mere fragments of a roaring fire, equal, yet opposite.

But yet, nothing lasts forever.

* * *

First year.

It had barely even been a week into the year, before the two, both alike, were at each other's throats, spewing curses and ruderies and ill intent towards one another.

Yet, when they met, that day in November, neither of the two emerged the victor.

One a Gryffindor, burning bright, heiress of an Ancient house.

The other a Slytherin, orphaned and alone, lost scion of a house long since buried.

Together they clashed, drawing one another to a duel, first on what little magic they possessed, then desperation, and then finally sheer stubbornness and unwillingness to lose.

Together, they fell, both exhausted, depleted, and together they are carted to the Hospital Wing.

The winter comes quickly, and the feeling of competition never fades, first manifesting as hatred, then as a grudging acceptance.

But yet neither is willing to compromise.

As the first year wanes, they nod towards one another, silently daring one another to be better the next year. Silently promising to set the example for the years to come.

* * *

Second Year.

Again the two clashed, once again drawing each other to exhaustion. Again, the awaken beside one another, but this time, there is no hatred.

Whether it is from disorientation of the aftereffects, or due to something else, the two part ways with a smile and a nod.

After all, what are they if not rivals?

The two rapidly find their callings, each different:

The girl, choosing to embrace the primal power of magic itself, and her path towards mastering the natural elements

The boy, determined to study and learn the intricate patterns lacing through world's most complex enchantments.

Their parting words are simple. _Be better, I will be waiting_.

* * *

Third Year.

What are once enemies, are now friends, despite what their houses say.

They meet again, and the duel lasts for minutes, neither willing to show weakness, of any kind to one another.

As they force each other to their knees, they silently share a nod, just before everything goes black.

They both awaken laughing.

The two work together now: with the boy weaving the patterns, and the girl empowering the runes, together tackling spells far beyond their age or experience would suggest.

Yet they know they cannot be beaten. They know that together, they are unstoppable.

They know that only at each others hands, would they ever know the taste of defeat.

They part with a quick embrace, before shuffling off in their separate ways, pausing only briefly to look back.

* * *

Fourth year.

Again, the two meet, but now, they have drawn a crowd.

An arrogant Slytherin dares to intervene upon the battle before him, only to be beaten down in an instant by the combined strength of the pair.

Individually, they are approached, enticed to draft into armies which are rapidly forming, to fight a war which never should exist.

Individually, The two slap away the contracts, the promises, the lies.

They turn to one another, each knowing the other to be true.

But yet, even as the sides form around them, they demand to stay neutral.

It is not their war. They will not allow it to become their war.

Together, they dig through mouldering old tomes, drawing complicated patterns from the dozen conflicting scripts. Together, they begin to unravel the workings of magic itself.

They part ways with a chaste kiss, leaving the two blushing as they scramble away.

* * *

Fifth year.

They meet again, and are not interrupted. The battle lasts for a dozen minutes, as the two continued to hurl spells at one another, neither willing to give an inch. Two forces, evenly matched.

As they force each other to their knees, neither of the two fades completely. Instead, they slowly rise back to their feet, and embrace.

The war has all but begun now: with the murder of a young girl fresh in the air. Yet, it does not concern the two. They know what they want in life, and they are determined to get it.

Together, they explore the castle, and find a place they can truly call theirs.

As they temporarily part ways for Yule, the boy sits, knees out of the window, watching the girl ride the train home.

Spring comes.

There is no sign of the girl.

What once was a comfortable normalcy is now nothing but panic and dread.

Denial has long set in, something, anything to stave away the pain.

He flees to their space, to the space they built together, and hides away from the world, praying for her to return. Refusing to win, not like this.

 _Come back_ , he begs. _You're stronger than this_.

He ends the year alone, empty and hollow.

* * *

Sixth year.

He is nothing but a shadow now: a pale imitation of who he used to be. He withdraws completely, isolating himself.

They try to recruit him, to a band known as the 'Death Eaters'. He wards them off, with first words, and then with magic.

He will not forget her. He refuses to. Everyone else seems to have, but he will remain.

He slowly loses himself to his studies, slowly going mad to the beat of a ticking clock, involuntarily pausing as he finishes each array, still unable to break the habit.

He sees the violence slowly erupt around him, but does not interfere.

Nothing matters.

Another year ends, a blank face permanently plastered upon his face. They all avoid him now, treating him like the leper he feels himself as.

* * *

Seventh Year.

They do not treat him as a person any longer, nor does he feel the urge to be.

Investigation has revealed much: an ancient family, slaughtered to the man.

The girl, her family.

And her body, never found. No bones, no rites, no burial.

He digs a small grave in absentia, something, anything to grant him closure.

Yet as his vision blurs, he can barely see the ground below him.

As his final work, he seals their hideout. Keyed to her. Keyed to them.

He leaves the school for the final time as another unremarkable Wizard, choosing to fade into obscurity.

He decides he deserves nothing less.

* * *

Seven years.

No longer a boy, now a man.

He is a hunter now, a vigilante determined to protect.

To prevent others from feeling his pain.

To keep what little memories he still has of her alive.

He finds a shadow, a strange imitation upon the roadside. But yet, the voice is unmistakable. The laugh, the walk. It flees as soon as it sees him.

He trails her, following her first through the forest, then through the swamps.

He will not give up the chase, no matter how difficult.

He finally tracks her to her old home, to the burned-out hulk in which she used to live.

There, the figure turns.

It is not the girl, not any more. Nor is it a woman. Rather, it is something else, something familiar, yet deeply wrong. Its face a mockery of what he remembers, its skin a pallor hue, its teeth in fangs, its fingers in claws.

Yet it reacts as if struck.

It glances towards the man, black eyes full of hope, of fear, of memories.

 _Kill me_. It begs. _You are the only one who can_.

He only shakes his head as he draws his wand.

Together they meet, yet neither is the victor.

As he struggles to his feet, he approaches his former foe. Friend. Lover.

With not even a touch of hesitation, he lowers a hand to it.

And slowly, after a gasp of relief, his rival raises her hand up to his, and grasps tightly.


	2. (Y3) During the Ball

_Let's give this another go._

 _Written as a challenge for the Golden Snitch Forums._

 _Two prompts:_

 _1: Playboy bunny/cat/mouse: Write about a character making a fool of themselves in front of their crush. (Bonus! Dialogue: "I'm a mouse, duh." 5 points)._

 _2: Eggnog Cake:1. Vanilla cake (Genre: humor) 2. Eggnog pastry cream filling (Color: lavender) 3. Spiced rum Vanilla bean frosting (Restriction: must have an OC as a main character) 4. Cinnamon sugar sprinkle (Animal: lizard)_

 _Timeline-wise, happens right during the dance._

 _Also, in case it's not obvious, AU, set in my other story's timeline._

* * *

It had taken serious convincing to get Ginny out of their room. She had been tempted to slap the girl, and a part of her still resented her for refusing that urge.

Aura groaned.

As if Ginny wasn't secretly on cloud nine about the whole thing! What sort of girl spends all year (well, every year) crushing on a boy as hard as she does, but chokes up the moment she has an opportunity to actually do something about it?

"And now," she muttered, "It's time to follow the two around. Hopefully, neither of the two are ambushed, but really, who am I kidding, they're totally going to be ambushed."

She turned back to her dresser.

Technically, she wasn't supposed to go down to the Ball, as she was both underage, and lacked a date.

Not like something that dumb would ever stop her.

She reached into her closet for her red dress.

"Thank goodness for spares." she mumbled, as she hastily donned her dress.

* * *

"I didn't know that you were a metamorphmagus." spoke a waifish voice from behind her.

Aura blinked twice, and then whirled around, nearly colliding with Luna, who had been leaning in rather close.

"I'm… not." she sputtered. "It's… a spell."

Luna was dressed in a rather gaudy lavender dress, Victorian in style.

At least, it was _mostly_ Victorian. It was rather heavily modified.

The bust, legs, and arms of the dress were covered in countless glimmering scales. Complimenting the outfit was a rather obvious set of pink, sparkly, decorative fairy wings, and even a set of brown mouse ears.

"What the hell?" sputtered Aurelia.

"I'm a mouse, duh." replied Luna, in a matter of fact tone.

"Wasn't All Hallow's Eve two months ago?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "Time is relative. Since when has anyone here ever said 'Today is not All Hallow's Eve'? I'm merely following my own clock, doing what I want to do. Besides, things like Time Turners exist, right? Also, why are you carrying around a Salamander in your pocket?"

Aura returned a stare. "Cinder here gets lonely if both of us are gone for too long. Plus, she's a decent impromptu throwing weapon. But you're doing something else, too. What is it?"

Luna shrugged her shoulders. "Everyone's busy with the ball, and this gives me time to go and do my own thing. The nargles aren't going to chase themselves, you know?"

"You're snooping, aren't you."

Luna spread a toothy grin. "A journalist has to start somewhere, right? Besides, the new Defense teacher feels off. There's no way that Dumbledore would authorize Unforgivables, even with permission. Oh, and by the way, if the rumor mill is right, congratulations on resisting the Imperius."

"It… was a mixed victory. It didn't do anything, but I couldn't do much either," murmured Aura. "And the costume?"

"If someone were to catch me, and I was dressed normally, what'd they say?"

"Oh." stated Aura as she raised her hand to her face. "You're going for the 'I'm probably going crazy, it's probably a good idea to forget this', aren't you."

"Bingo." smiled Luna. "Did you enjoy the Quibbler I gave you?"

"I'll take a regular subscription, sure. But I gotta go, someone could be attacking Potter even now."

"He does have that effect, doesn't he." chirped Luna. "I'll leave you to it then. Good luck on your mission, little Fel, and you too, little Salamander."

And with that, Luna spun on her heel, and walked off into the distance, over-elaborate costume jangling with every step.

Only when she was entirely out of sight, did Aura let go of the breath she was holding.

"Dammit. _So_ glad that she's the only true-sighted witch here." she groaned, as Cinder chirped in agreement.

* * *

Once again, Aura lowered her face to her hands.

She was sitting by the punch, occasionally refilling her rapidly-emptying cup.

On the dance floor, the couples were dancing to the best of their abilities.

Unfortunately, for Potter and Ginny, neither of the two had any real ability.

"Ooooh, that'll leave a mark" grimaced the boy beside her, as Ginny's flailing legs forced an impromptu near-backflip from Potter.

"It's not a day for Potter, until someone, or something tries to kill him." Aura snarked, taking another sip of punch. It tasted funny, like it was rancid, or something. To be honest, not having a fully-working sense of taste was as much of a blessing as it was a curse. On the plus side, she was pretty much immune to most kinds of poison, so regardless of how badly the messed up the punch, she'd be fine.

"You want to dance?" asked one of the boys near her.

"I would, except I'm mostly here to watch people fall over and make a fool of themselves." replied Aura.

She groaned. Right now, she looked about three years older than she actually was. She had _really_ not wanted to be recognisable, and had gone the extra mile to make that distinction known. Unfortunately, she had done it too well: this was the sixth guy this hour. In fact, the rate that she was being asked had only increased as time had gone on.

Was a brighter skin color, and two cup sizes really enough to have this kind effect? If so, she was entirely fine with staying flat forever.

She finished her eighth cup of punch, and refilled it in two scoops.

"Well…" she murmured, as she watched two continue to fail to waltz. Ginny, having apparently gotten confused, had lifted both legs at the same time, leading to a rather catastrophic faceplant.

"At least I'm not doing _nothing_ tonight."


	3. (Y4) Secrets of Fire

_This is for a challenge: The Golden Snitch Costume Contest._

 _Particular prompt: Firefighter. (Requirements: write about a character who can manipulate an element.)_

 _For the record, Aura's an OC of mine, who I've written to be Ginny's roommate._

 _Storyline-wise, I'd say this takes place during year four._

* * *

The Gryffindor dorms were always full of interesting incidents and escapades, but today, something different was happening.

"Ouch!" cried Ginny, as she once again raised her burned fingertips to her mouth.

"No… I'm pretty sure you try and make sure the fire is about an inch _away_ from your skin." murmured Aurelia.

She couldn't understand why elemental manipulation was so _hard_! Aura was able to fling around fire around without a care in the world! And she was **sure** that she had seen fire directly contact Aura's skin, to no ill effect.

"I don't understand! You've done this so goddamn easily! Why is it so damn hard?" sputtered the redhead.

The whole thing had begun as a joke, well, more of a bet, actually.

What had started as a comment about learning new, weird kinds of magic had quickly spiraled into a desperate attempt to pick up a new method of self defense. Elemental conjuration, while relatively rare, was pretty solid as far as defense went, and was unique enough that she'd set herself apart from the pack.

Plus, Aura said that she'd try to tutor her, which was a pretty solid plus. It was good to have someone with a solid grasp on a spell to teach it, right?

It'd feel good to be able to support Harry. The Death Eaters weren't going to just fade back into obscurity. And knowing new magics would definitely give her and edge up on the competition.

Assuming she ever got that far. Right now, she was hoping to get through the lesson without permanently removing her fingerprints.

"I've got twelve years of experience, and a _**hell**_ of a lot of things going for me in this, that you don't have." chuckled Aura, as if she was telling a joke.

"I swear, if you say you sold your soul for fire magic, I'm going to slap you." murmured Ginny, as she reached for the (readily accessible) burn cream. "Seriously though, why do you even have this much burn cream?"

"You do hear me upstairs when you're off doing your thing, right?" replied Aura, pointing at the still-smouldering crater in the floor. "Runes aren't exactly the safest thing to go blind into."

"I'm good to go again." spoke Ginny, holding her hand out again.

"Okay. So… let's try doing it this way." began Aura, as she lifted her pet Salamander out of its terrarium.

Dear Merlin. In retrospect, Ginny didn't understand why she had okayed the whole thing: sure, the salamander was remarkably tame, but seriously, it was a dangerous magical creature.

Sometimes, she wondered, and dreaded what would happen if she were to ever introduce Aura to Hagrid. Would she survive? Would the school?

"Okay, so you can feel her, right?" she continued. "Try and keep the feeling in your mind. I'm convincing Cinder here to not burn you, but it should have a similar feeling to casting fire magic."

Ginny breathed in once, then let the air out slowly. "Yeah, I think I've got it."

"Okay, so just keep that in your mind. Also, close your eyes."

A minute and a half passed, before Ginny lost her patience. "I don't understand what this is supposed to accomplish. Seriously!"

"Yeah?" came the voice to her left. She turned to it, to see Aura, sitting on her bed, Salamander curled up in her lap.

First of all, ouch? Wait, if the salamander is there, then what?

Slowly, Ginny's eyes drifted back towards her hands, where a swirling ball of fire, about the size of a plum rotated in place.

"I did it!" she whispered in relief, as her shoulders slumped slightly.

"Crap! Crap! Keep your concentration!" screamed her roommate.

"What?"

Before her eyes, the even ball of fire began to widen and fluctuate, until it resembled more of a ellipse than the smooth ball it was before.

"Fucking hell! It's destabilising! If you don't want brand new third-degree burns, get rid of it! **Now**!"

In a panic, Ginny hurled the ball of rapidly-destabilising fire in a random direction, where it collided with the stone walls with a crack and a flesh of heat.

Both girls stared at the new burn mark for a moment, before turning back towards each other.

"Okay. Good start. Let's work on the stabilisation next then, right?"

Ginny groaned. It was going to be a long week.


	4. (Y3) Fidelius

_This takes place during year 3. In particular, during the summer of year 3._

 _It's all little drabbles._

* * *

 _I'm at Gr_

 _At Gr_

 _Stupid goddamn fidelius._

 _I'm here at…_

 _The english language contains the words 'Grim', 'Old', and 'Place'._

 _I'm at G_

 _Twelve is a number. It's possible to be twelve years old. The grim old man placed twelve rocks._

 _I'm at Grim_

 _Goddammit._

 _Another word for Grim is Whiny._

 _Another word for Old is Grampa._

 _Another world for Place is Retirement Home._

 _I'm at Whiny Grampa Retirement Home #12. The last 11 burned down, apparently._

 _Even though I know where I am, I can't write about it, apparently._

 _I don't know if it's spell resistance, or something else, but if I'm able to imply where I am through the Fidelius, it definitely isn't perfect._

* * *

"Bastards! Heathens! Half-Breeds!" screamed the painting.

"And you're the ugliest waste of paint I've ever seen!" screamed back the blonde.

"How dare you! I am Walburga Black! Purest of blood, of the purest of families!"

"And look where that's gotten you! Whichever fool you bribed to paint you surely must have been blind!"

"Who are you to disrespect me so!" screamed back the purple-faced painting.

"I am Aurelia Cain, Heiress of House Cain!"

"Didn't you all die?"

"Didn't you?"

The screaming continued for about another ten minutes, before someone finally came down to drag the blonde away.

Neither of the two had won the argument, but the rest of the house had certainly lost.

* * *

"Are you _certain_ that you can't destroy the painting?" asked Aurelia.

"Trust me, I've tried everything. Whatever they did to the painting has made it the next-best thing to indestructible." murmured Sirius Black.

"Have you tried Fiendfyre?"

Sirius blinked back at the blonde. "No, and I don't think I'll ever try. The last thing I want is for Fiendfyre to start burning things, and set off whatever other curses are kicking around here."

"What about dropping the frame in a volcano, or something?"

"What?"

"Nothing. So you can't remove the painting?"

"Nope."

"And you can't remove the wall it's on?"

"I could, but then I'd set off the wards."

"That'd be bad?"

"Well, assuming the house didn't roast me, I'd definitely not be walking away unharmed."

"Might be worth it, though."

"I find myself thinking that quite often."

* * *

"Oh, and be careful of the upstairs washroom. That one's cursed too." chimed in Sirius.

" **What?** " screamed Aurelia.

"Huh?"

"I've _only_ been using the upstairs bathroom, and never ran into anything even resembling a curse."

Sirius blinked at her. "You mean you completely ignored the blood-boiling curse that was on the doorknob?"

Her face colored back at him. "I thought that they had just enchanted it to stay warm!"

Sirius lowered his face to his hands. "Well, if that's the sort of thing you like, I guess you can keep using that washroom."

* * *

"So, what's the most dangerous magical creature you've ever faced?" asked Sirius, as he lay back in one of the few non-cursed chairs in the easternmost sitting room.

"Hrrm. That'd be a tough one." murmured Cyrus Cain, in the seat opposite him. He had arrived late into July, along with his wife.

"I'll give you a minute. It can't possibly be worse than dementors, though." replied Sirius, shuddering slightly upon mentioning his captors.

"Hrrm. Upon close inspection, I'd say the most dangerous magical creature I've ever faced was my wife, when she's angry." grinned back Cyrus.

"Wife, huh? She really get that bad?" smirked Sirius, with a snort thrown in for good measure.

"Ever been lit on fire, and then thrown out of an upstairs window?"

"Ouch." winced Sirius. "Married life, huh? Makes me wonder whether it's worth it."

"Yup, married life. Oh, and it definitely is. Just need to watch your step."

* * *

" **Regurgitae Fullonae!** " bellowed Molly Weasley, aiming yet another Mouth-Sudsing Charm at the foul-mouthed blonde.

"Bleh… gross." murmured Aurelia, pausing to spit out a single bubble. It floated in the air for a single moment, before popping with a near inaudible hiss.

Sighing, Molly turned towards Aurelia's mother. "Are you going to discipline your daughter?"

Annabelle Cain only smiled back. "Like anything we've done has made a difference over the last fourteen years."

* * *

"So…" began Sirius, "I know you work as a Dark Creature hunter, but what does your wife do?"

"Well," replied Cyrus, as he searched for the right words. "She works at Azkaban."

Needless to say, Sirius flinched.

"Nooo, she's not on retrieval duty. She's only responsible for the people on the island. You're off of the island, so you're safe." he reassured the escaped convict.

"Do you three exist solely to scare the crap out of me?" murmured Sirius

"Possibly." smirked Cyrus.

"And the Dementors don't give her any trouble?"

"Well, we know how to deal with them, to say the least."

* * *

Sirius awoke to the sound of screaming.

It was a little past midnight.

As he descended the stairs, he could begin to hear what exactly was being said.

" **Do you know if that painting will let you feel pain? Because if it is, we hope you enjoy every moment of this. Burn wretch, burn.** " bellowed an echoing, inhuman voice.

And then an acrid smell filled the air. Strangely enough, he could almost see the light inside the house brighten slightly.

Drawing his wand, he stalked down the stairs, only to find Annabelle Cain standing before the smoldering pile of ash, where his mother's portrait once was.

"Indestructible, my ass." murmured Annabelle, as she stowed her wand back into her pocket.

He cleared his throat.

Annabelle jolted for a moment, before turning quickly to face him.

"What? You can't seriously have wanted me to keep that piece of shit, did you?" growled Annabelle.

Inwardly, Sirius groaned. ' _Dear god, there's two of them._ '


	5. (Y3) Bowling

The pins crashed as yet another ball sent them skittering away, as usually was wont to happen to those who stood before him.

Thomas Riddle, the Dark Lord stood, breathing heavily, as he threw yet another strike. Above him, the counter marked his strike, adding it to his running tally of eight in a row.

Around him his followers loitered about the alley, some merely drinking, while some others joined him in on the sport.

Taking a slight break, he snapped his fingers, causing a server to come running, carrying his favorite beverage.

He grinned. It hadn't been easy, all of those years ago, to do what he had done, but a man had to have hobbies, lest they go insane.

And, as he stood, in the 'abandoned' bowling alley, releasing some of his tension, he couldn't help but acknowledge he had chosen correctly.

He had first taken up bowling to simply stick it to Dumbledore: the bearded fool had been just barely the tenth best bowler in Britain, and by taking his place, had removed him entirely from the leaderboards.

But what once was spite, soon turned into an actual enjoyment.

Fifteen years ago, Thomas Riddle was the best bowler in Britain. And he had reached that without even the slightest hint of magic, not only edging out Dumbledore's record, but utterly obliterating it.

A feat he hoped to extend not only from the sport, but from all of living memory as well.

As the server handed him his beverage, eyes empty like glass marbles, he leaned back in an easy-chair, watching his followers with apt amusement.

Among them, very few possessed the patience or the accuracy to truly become good at the sport; to be honest, he would likely never truly respect such cretins. Lucius was putting up a respectable score, but seemed to more often than not throw a 3-10 split.

His eyes turned back to the server, who was still staring at him. He sighed, as he dismissed the mindless slave.

It had taken a little over a week of continuous casting of the Imperius curse to permanently seed the minds of the Muggles here, to have them accept without question that he was their master. After his… dethroning fourteen years ago, they had reverted somewhat, although the enchantments had held up admirably, snapping back to full when his presence graced them once more.

From the corner of his eye, he could see two of his 'followers' murmuring to one another. A quick, wandless, silent spell made their conversation quite audible.

"I've never understood why he is so insistent on this sport. Isn't it a muggle sport?"

"He's the Dark Lord. He does what he wants." murmured the other. Good. That one was getting a promotion. Loyal idiots were always so difficult to find.

He sauntered up to the first speaker, much to his victim's panic.

"We are, after all, better than muggles in every way, correct?" he began.

The Death Eater regained some of his color, "Of… of course, my lord."

"And then, shouldn't we also be better at them, even in their ways?" he continued.

"Uhhh… yes, my lord?"

"After all, learning new things tends to teach us such interesting new skills. For example." he smirked, as he walked back to his original position, three lanes away, and then pointed his wand down the lane, "Crucio."

The air seemed to shimmer as the Cruciatus curse writhed through the air, arcing slightly with each inch it moved. In moments, it had turned a full one-hundred degrees, and now was pointed directly at the fool who had chosen to belittle him. It collided with the idiot, his screams filling the air as the redirected spell worked its magic upon the victim.

With his heckler sorted, it was time to finish his practice. The tournament started tomorrow, and he'd be damned if he didn't get his trophy back.

* * *

 **HE'S BACK!**

 **Thomas "The Archwizard" Riddle is back from his fifteen-year retirement, and has taken the world of bowling by storm!**

 **After an unbelievable perfect score, there is no debate about who the best bowler in Britain is, as he reclaimed the trophy he had held for over ten years.**

 **"The trophy was always mine," says Riddle, "I was merely letting my competitors believe they had a chance, over the last fifteen years."**

 **Indeed, Riddle had disappeared from the bowling scene altogether.**

 **"I ran into a work-related accident, of course," explains Riddle, "It took quite some effort to get back on my feet."**

 **Riddle declined to elaborate on the nature of the accident.**

 **The 'Britain's Best' Tag-Team Bowling tournament is scheduled next February.**

 **Will Riddle be reclaiming that trophy as well?**

 **His partner, one Bellatrix Black, was notably absent during the tournament.**

* * *

Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore put down the muggle paper, head in his hands.


	6. (Background) Spellcasting

**TAHBE Extended Spell List**

Spellcasting Difficulty scale:

Cantrip{}Very Low{}Low{}Medium-Low{}Medium{}Medium-High{}High{}Very High{}Extremely High{}Archmage

Aurelia moves Fire spells down two steps, and Light, Water, and Ice spells up three steps. Individual spells can contain more than one element.

As a specialist spellcaster, Aurelia is able to cast certain spells regardless of difficulty. This includes the penalties for casting wandless, silent, and still. These spells are marked with an (S).

* * *

Examples of spells per level

Cantrip (0)

Stinging Hex, Lumos

Very Low (1)

{TBD}

Low (2)

Knockback Jinx, Slug-Belching Jinx,

Medium-Low (3)

Incedio (S), Summoning Charm

Medium (4)

Medium-High (5)

Patronus

High (6)

{TBD}

Very High (7)

Fidelius

Extremely High (8)

{TBD}

Archmage (9)

{TBD}

* * *

Medium-Low (3) should be doable by a third-year, High (6) by the average seventh year. Aura should be able to handle High (6, but treated as 4 due to reduction) fire spells by year 5.

Certain spells can be reduced in difficulty by adding more casters, or by casting the spell as a ritual.

Harry Potter should be throwing around Very High in his specialization (Disarming, protection) by year 7.

Wandless casting increases difficulty by 3. Silent casting increases difficulty by 2. Stilled casting increases difficulty by 2.

The Elder Wand grants its owner a -2 difficulty for all spells.

Higher difficulty spells can be cast, but they tend to be weaker, or more dangerous to do so.

* * *

 **Format:**

Spell Name

Spell Incantation

Spell Language

Spell Class

Spell Difficulty

Range

Elements

Spell Effect

* * *

 **Scarab Swarm**

Desecrae Scarabus Erosia

Bad Latin

Curse

5

Low

Life, Summoning, Transfiguration

A swarm of flesh-eating scarabs forms in front of the caster, which serves a two-part purpose as a shield and an offensive weapon.

* * *

 **Suffocation Curse**

Aetheros

Bad Latin

Curse

4

Medium

Air, Corruption

Cuts off the victim's airflow, preventing spellcasting and breathing until the spell is dispelled.

* * *

 **Echoing Light**

Lumos Luxia

Bad Latin

Charm

1

Medium

Light

Launches a bolt of colored light. Spell is entirely worthless when not cast silently. When cast silently, simply say the incantation of a different spell.

* * *

 **Infernal Vision**

Infernis Occuli

Bad Latin

Charm

3

Low

Darkness, Mind, (S)

Grants strong mage-sight, although it is difficult to control. Tends to be disorienting or sickening to those unused to it.

* * *

 **Hellfire Whip**

A'krala Cindaeros

Infernal

Curse

5

Medium

Fire, Physical, Demonic, (S)

A crackling whip of infernal energy. The heat of the whip is entirely controllable, ranging from blazing to merely room temperature. Spell is mostly physical in nature, bypassing spell resistance in favor of attacking a foe's physical resistance instead.

* * *

 **Glitter Bomb**

Glamus

Bad Latin

Hex

1

Medium

Summoning, Transfiguration

Shoots a blob of sticky glitter at a foe. Glitter is extremely resistant to removal.

* * *

 **Scalding Steam**

Vaproa

Bad Latin

(Flexible, can count as either a charm, a hex, or a curse)

1,2,3

Medium

Water, Fire, Summoning

Releases a gout of steam. By adding additional magic, the steam can vary in heat from standard (effective at cleaning clothes), to hot (effective versus vermin and steaming walls), to dangerous (able to be used in combat against unarmored foes)

* * *

 **Backlash Curse**

Dissonae Arcanis

Bad Latin

Curse

4

Medium

Dispelling,

Launches a bolt which, upon contact with a solid object, attempts to discharge the contained magic within. Against shoddily enchanted items, this disenchants them, although it tends to activate them while doing so. When impacting a magical shield, however, the spell does its best to fully deplete the target's magical reserves, potentially knocking the victim unconscious, should they fail to drop their now-parasitic shield quickly enough.

* * *

 **Insensus Curse**

Sensus Erisiae

Bad Latin

Curse

5

Medium

Mind

An extremely potent curse, which swaps the victim's vision and hearing, effectively rendering them not only deaf and blind, but also receiving sensory input they cannot process. Extremely disorienting.

* * *

 **Slug-Belching Hex**

Regurgitae Mollusca

Bad Latin

Hex

1

Medium

Transfiguration

Forces the victim to vomit slugs. As in Canon.

* * *

 **Mouth-Soaping Hex**

Regurgitae Fullonae

Bad Latin

Hex

1

Medium

Transfig

Forces the victim to vomit soap. Offshoot of the Slug-Belching Hex.


End file.
